The End of Light
by Lady of the Void
Summary: During the series finale, what would have happened to Ella if Leon hadn't returned? Oneshot.


A/N: During the series finale, what if Leon didn't go back for Ella? What if Malachi found her first?

The wound in Ella's chest throbbed mercilessly. The sharp, sanguine smell of blood arrested her nostrils; she could feel the wound pulsate and release a steady stream of her own life force. It was agony, truly a horrific scenario that she had hoped would never come to pass. Her breath came to her in unsteady gasps. She pressed the white towel Thelma had given her hard against her chest. So this would be the end of the Great Ella Dee, last of the Anointed Ones. No trumpet. No fanfare. No dramatic climax of action. She was to die alone, in her room. To finally succumb to the cold might of an unsure death. What would happen after could be anyone's guess, but Ella would stake her life that it would be unpleasant.

Thelma had left. Ella begged her not to go, but she announced her intent to find Leon confidently. She had wanted Ella to die in Leon's arms, a more fitting tribute to the world's last line of defense against evil. Thelma thought that Leon would listen to her if he saw her dying, that somehow their love would be rekindled. Ella knew that Leon was long gone. She had hurt him in an unrecoverable way; she knew that it was the truth and yet she still hurt. Her chest had become a gaping cavity; even without the current injury, her chest would hurt with the agony of regret.

So without Thelma, without Leon, she settled in to her last moments. The ultimate defeat of Ella Dee, fallen on her own knife. Practically killed herself. The door to Ella's room creaked open surreptitiously. In the doorway stood Malachi, alone. His black button down shirt was open several buttons, displaying a prominent strip of chest. In all his otherworldly elegance, he was a sight to behold for most women. Ella only felt sick. At least there was grace to dying alone; she didn't want to face ridicule in her last breaths. She didn't think she could do it anymore; she didn't think she could be strong against certain defeat and death.

It took Malachi a moment to digest the scene in front of him. He had expected Ella to come out fighting, for Thelma to throw something at him, for Leon to curse his very existence. He did not expect to see a very distraught Ella Dee, lying on her bed with blood pulsating out of a chest wound. The towel she clutched against it was covered in blood, her blood. It seemed rather inferior to him, that she should have to clutch this towel to her own chest, even after all the good she had done in the world. She gazed up at him expectantly, for the first time without skepticism. She was already to accept whatever he had to say. He knew immediately (because of this uncharacteristic look) that the wound was fatal. His heart sank. Or more accurately, whatever he kept in his chest (surely it wasn't a heart?) caved in. "Come to gloat Malachi?" her question was not phrased angrily or sarcastically. It was more matter of fact. She tried to minimize her panting but she found she really could not. "No," he replied softly. "I came to see you, to fight you if I could, to defeat you finally, but not to gloat." Ella laughed, a choked, cracked sound. "You've won, Malachi. Congratulations."

Malachi fought his old human emotions that surreptitiously surfaced and threatened to overtake him. He strode forward, effortlessly smooth. "I didn't want it to end like this." He sat down at the head of the bed. The closeness did not frighten Ella. She was comforted by the intimacy. He tilted her head up briefly so he could position it on his lap. It was obvious to both of them that it was not a sexual gesture. It was an expression of solidarity. Malachi smoothed her hair with one hand and held the towel against her chest with the other. They both stared at the door, not trusting themselves to know what the future might hold. Ella felt herself lightening, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest. Her body felt weightless, like she was on clouds. "I didn't want it to end like this either." The soft lilt of her voice hit Malachi with the intensity of a brick wall. Her labored breathing slowed. The last of the Anointed Ones died, quietly, in the lap of the greatest evil the world had ever seen. Mortal enemies, lovers, and ultimately more than that, they were, and Malachi took no joy in his victory over the legendary Ella Dee.


End file.
